


Thank God for the Mob

by casostrophe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (and Clint), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clint Barton is a Little Shit, Clint’s mentioned briefly, M/M, Meet-Cute, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam is only in here for .2 seconds, Sort Of, Thank God for the Mob, The f-bomb is dropped a lot, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 17:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15868131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casostrophe/pseuds/casostrophe
Summary: “The mob?” Steve repeats, calmer now. “How did your friend get you to piss off the mob?”“Clint’s an asshole who thinks he can con anyone out of everything. Maybe it’s his past with the circus-““The circus?”“Yeah, the circus.“———Bucky jumps into Steve’s life, literally.





	Thank God for the Mob

**Author's Note:**

> Spur of the moment writing session when I should be asleep? Sign me the heck up!

“Drive! Drive! Fucking drive!!” Someone yells after hurtling themselves through Steve’s open car window. Steve screams, his phone flying out of his hand and over his shoulder at the intrusion. “Go. Go.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He puts his already running car in drive and peels out of the gas station parking lot. Glancing back in the rear view mirror, he watches three very large, bulky, and badly dressed men falter in their steps at the gas pump Steve was just parked at. Their mouths are moving, probably yelling, while they shake their hands after the car. Turning his eyes back to the road, Steve swallows his panic and tightens his grip on his steering wheel.

“What the fuck was that?” Steve breathes after an awkward beat. The person next to him straightens in his seat, still panting very hard. “What the fuck was that?” Steve repeats, this time looking at the guy and at a considerably loud volume.

“Hi, I’m Bucky.” The Guy says, reaching out a hand with a broad smile on his face.

“What the fuck was that?!” Steve shouts, eyes wide and panic returning.

The guy, Bucky, takes back his hand and sucks in his bottom lip. He tilts his head to the side then plasters an apologetic smile on his face. “That, that was me being tricked by my friend, Clint, and pissing off the mob.”

“The mob?” Steve laughs, high and on the verge of hysterics.

His knuckles are white on the steering wheel and his body is vibrating. He can feel the tightness in his chest that usually signals an oncoming asthma attack and tries to slow his breathing to prevent it. When he takes in three deep breaths and feels like he’s not going to pass out, he glances over at Bucky.

The guy’s twiddling his thumbs nervously as he watches Steve with concerned eyes.

“The mob?” Steve repeats, calmer now. “How did your friend get you to piss off the mob?”

“Clint’s an asshole who thinks he can con anyone out of everything. Maybe it’s his past with the circus-“

“ _The circus_?”

“Yeah, the circus. But he got me in a poker game because I look Italian, thought they’d accept me as part of their gang but saw right through Clint’s horrible disguise.” Bucky explains, gesturing to his outfit, which Steve now notices looks _really really_ bad.

Not that he looks bad, just the clothes.

Bucky’s wearing a pair of pinstripe pants with a black button-up and white suspenders over his shoulders. A thick white tie is around his neck along with a gold cross necklace. Steve grimaces at his slicked back hair with too much product in it.

“Was your friend purposely trying to get you killed?” Steve grins. “I mean the hair’s kinda accurate, but the outfit looks straight outta an old movie.”

Bucky glances down at his shirt, fingers picking at his tie with a half-hearted frown. “Is it really that bad?”

Now that Steve is over the initial shock of someone actually _jumping through his window_ , he can’t help the laugh that bubbles from his chest. It tumbles from his lips so hard that he clenches his hand over his mouth and rocks back and forth in his seat, taking all the will in him to keep his eyes on the road. Bucky chuckles nervously beside him.

“Fuck yes!” Steve wheezes before taking a breath to calm himself down. He better stop now or he will actually need his inhaler. “I have an extra pair of clothes in the back seat if you wanna change.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Why do you have a change of clothes in your car?”

“I stay at my friends way too often sometimes so it’s mandatory.”

“Fair.” Bucky mumbles as he turns around to grab the clothes. Steve definitely does not look at his ass. His eyes are on the road the whole time. He _swears_.

When Bucky plops back into the seat, Steve promises he doesn’t watch Bucky strip out of his suspenders, tie, and shirt to tug on Steve’s oversized gray hoodie. He totally does not clench his hands on the wheel when Bucky slides his pinstripe pants down his legs and pulls on Steve’s snug jeans. Definitely not surprised when they fit him super nicely. Steve doesn’t have an extra pair of shoes so Bucky’s left with his dress shoes.

Steve tries to keep his full attention on the road when Bucky looks over at him and splays his hands out, whispering a small “ta-da.” It’s really _not_ that Steve is trying so hard to keep from saying how good Bucky looks.

“So where to?” Steve asks after clearing his throat.

“Clint’s house so I can kick his ass.” Bucky says with a nod, jaw set in determination.

Steve hopes he won’t really injure his friend, he’s actually kind of enjoying this surprise. Maybe he’ll thank Clint and the mob. He shudders at the thought of getting involved with the mob. Nevemind. 

The car fills with a silence. Steve’s too occupied with not staring directly at Bucky to notice anything other than how good his thighs look in those jeans.

“Do you hear that?” Bucky says suddenly, his brow knitted together in confusion. Steve opens his mouth to speak, but Bucky’s already out of his seat and digging around in the back. Steve’s stunned into silence.

Bucky’s thighs are _not_ the _only_ thing that look good in those jeans.

He snaps his gaze away and mouth closed when Bucky plops back into his seat with Steve’s discarded phone. Bucky holds the device out to Steve. The forty-five minute call still rolling on his phone.

“Oh shit, Sam!” He gasps as he takes the phone and presses it to his ear. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry.”

As soon as he finishes speaking Sam begins yelling. “ _What in the actual fuck, Steven Rogers_?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Should I continue?


End file.
